A Life Story Just Begun

This was a paper I had to write back in the beginning of September for my Christian Life Foundations class. I thought some of you might be willing to read five and a half pages about my life, thus far. I haven't updated it since September, so there are certainly some stories missing. One day, I've decided, I must write a book. Until then, here's a little something to chew on, ladies and gentlemen. ~Becca

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My name is Rebecca – Rebecca Marie L’Allier to be specific. I turned 18 years old on May 11, 2006. I was born in the year 1988 in the hospital in the Twin Cities, Minnesota. I was born to David John and Elizabeth Marie (Slicker-) L’Allier. David and Elizabeth had been married for just over three years when I was born to them. As a happy family of three, we lived in Forest Lake, Minnesota in a log cabin on one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes. We lived there for 18 months.


During my eighteenth month we moved to Melbourne, Florida (where my mother was born and raised). I lived my life in that city from then on (until moving for college shortly after I turned 18). We first lived in an attached apartment on my mom’s parents’ property. Shortly after that we moved a few miles away to a cozy home of our own on Ute Drive. When I was three years old my eldest younger brother, John-Michael was born. I could never have asked for a sweeter Christmas present (he was born on December 12, 1991). John-Michael ends up being one of my closest friends – especially over the last couple years of my life. Shortly after John-Michael was born, we had to put our black Labrador, Ranbo to sleep due to cancer. I remember questioning God as to why I had to lose such a dear friend to such a vicious thing as death. Little did I know this concept would prove much more difficult to understand over ten years later.

A couple years later we bought our current dog (who is now 13 years old), Copper, from the Seeing Eye Dog Association. Copper failed school because she was too “skittish.” Shortly after buying Copper for a measly $100, we welcomed the newest member of our family -- my youngest brother, Stephen Christopher. Our home was bursting with love for everyone, but it was also bursting at the seams with people (and nowhere to put them and all of their stuff). Therefore, we moved once again. This time, instead of a family-friendly neighborhood, we moved a few miles away to a house that my grandparents owned on a bustling highway (Sarno Road).

After having lived there until 1999, my father agreed to buy a house yet another few miles away from our current location in an extremely family-friendly subdivision by the name of North Pointe. We ended up in a cul-de-sac by the name of Yukon Court. To this day, my mother is convinced that were my father not off of his medication (to treat his manic depression), then he never would have purchased the house that we’ve so easily come to call our home. After years of searching, we finally found a home that we could call our own. One we didn’t have to be worried about being kicked out of, or taken away from us. Finally… and then… surprise! My mother gave birth to my younger sister, Angela Marie. My parents never suspected that I was praying fervently for my mother to conceive a girl. Both of my parents both thought that they were done having children. In fact, my baby sister was miraculously conceived. This goes to show you that the prayers uttered by a young child are just as important to God as the prayers of a priest of many years.

Angela turned out to be the biggest blessing in my life. I do not know where I would be right now were it not for Angela. She is everything to me – my sunshine of the morn, my “angel,” my love, my baby girl, my sister and my dearest friend. I love her with all that I am, and I doubt if I could have gotten through some of the trials that I got through without her. I love her more than I love any other girl in my life. There’s no doubt I love my brothers, my mother, and my father, but oh, how I love my darling sister.

Middle school was incredibly difficult for me. People talk about it being a transitional period, but for me, it was more than just that. You see, being home schooled all of my life, I was very well-educated in everything from academics to socializing to proper etiquette to various forms of dance. However, I was not prepared for the questions that I would find myself asking -- questions about me, about life, about my sexuality, about God.

I made it through middle school learning who to ask all of my tough questions, who my true friends were, and that my parents were two of the people I could always depend on to love me without judgment. Life certainly didn’t get progressively better, but it didn’t become a living hell, either. However, when ninth grade rolled around, life was a bit tougher than I expected it to be. I thought after having gone through so much during middle school, that surely high school would be much better. Little did I know how incorrect I was! High school has been – by far – the most trying obstacle placed in my path, thus far. Only God knows how I made it through to the other side without being totally ruined. Not only did school become increasingly more difficult, but having an adequate social life while keeping my grades up and performing my household duties (which later decreased due to other responsibilities) as well as maintaining good standing with whichever boss I had at the time also proved harder than I’d expected. I’m not entirely sure how I ended up surviving those four years in order to make it to college with above a 3.5 GPA, but… I did! Praise God for miracles, I suppose! :)

Twelfth grade was even more trying than the previous three years. Not only did I make my first C or B in a class – ever, mind you – but I also discovered that I indeed disagreed with my parents on certain issues. I made many mistakes that year in how I handled myself, but we’ve moved past that and are now seeing brighter days. In fact, my parents and I now have very special, closely-knit relationships with one another. Life has been much better for me over the summer and the first couple weeks here at Bryan than it was for the previous 5-6 years.

March, 2005 – a month that would shock me into the reality of life being but a vapor. Little did I know how much things would change as of the evening of March 2, 2005. My maternal grandfather had gone into a coma a week or so before that night. He’d been in the hospital for an operation to amputate his toe. Whatever they gave him to prepare his body for the operation put him in a coma. The details are sketchy, but whatever happened, it ended in his death. He was in the hospital for about a week. I was able to go visit him once before seeing him a final time.

A few days before Robert E. Slicker (my grandpa) went into his coma, my community college professor handed out an assignment much earlier than she had planned. I remember being rather upset at her since I only had two days to complete the rough draft of my first narrative essay. The assignment was simple enough, but I could hardly think of what to focus my essay on. She wanted us to interview a close adult friend or family member about something of consequence that had happened to them and write an essay about it. I finally thought to interview Grandpa. He had earned two bronze stars by capturing two German SS Nazi Troopers in World War II. I was going to interview him over the phone, but he insisted upon me coming over to interview him in person. I complied and, with his permission, tape recorded the interview for further reference over the next week or so while I was writing my paper. He told me both stories and I chose the more dramatic of the two with the most juicy, vivid details to do my story on.

A few days later, Grandpa went into his coma. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that Mrs. Geil (my professor) handed that assignment out as early as she did. Not only was I “forced” to go talk to Grandpa, but I also have our very last conversation on tape! I will treasure that tape for many, many years to come. I got my paper back with “98” written on the top of the first page on – you guessed it! – March 2, 2005. I read it right after we ushered him into the throne room. We were all there (Daddy, Mommy, John-Michael, Stephen, Angela, myself and my aunt Nisi) when Grandpa passed on to be with Jesus. We were singing “Blessed Be Your Name” and had come to the part where it says, “You give and take away,” when he breathed his last. I have no idea how I was able to walk out of there as peaceful as I was. The only thing I remember thinking was, “Thank you, Jesus. He’s with You, now. He’s no longer in pain; he can run, again; he can dance, again; he can have as many sweets as he wants! [He was Diabetic.]” I guess that’s how I got through it. I knew that, for him, life was better. It was simply rough on the survivors.

We struggled through the viewing and the funeral as best as we could. Thank the Lord, Grandpa looked nothing like he did when he was alive come the viewing. My grandma went to the viewing, and as she knelt at his casket she said, “He has a little smirk on his face, doesn’t he?” She was glad he didn’t look a thing like himself. When we left him there, that night, I remember my mom crying and saying, “I feel like I’m leaving him all alone, here.” Her “Uncle” (who was really good friends with Grandpa and was also the funeral home owner) replied, “It’s okay, Liz. Why don’t you leave his Army jacket, here? Then he won’t be here by himself.” She agreed and we left. It was one of the most difficult moments of my life. Nothing compares to leaving someone you loved so deeply for the last time. Knowing you won’t ever see their face again on this earth is so hard! I was suddenly reminded of that question: “Why God – why?!” Oh, how it hurt. It still hurts me. Every so often it will take me by surprise. I’ll be going home to visit and I’ll think, “Oh, I wonder if I’ll get to see…. Oh. Right.”

The funeral went uneventfully and we all moved on with our lives. A few months later, my mom and Nisi, as executors of the estate, moved to have Grandma declared incompetent. Three of her doctors signed a paper saying she was indeed incapable of making big decisions for herself. On September 19, 2005, Grandma went to go see Grandpa. The last thing she said was in reply to the question, “Are you ready to go see Bob, Marge?” To this she nodded her head. And then she was gone. The caregiver called us and we (me, my mom, Nisi and my siblings) went over to hold her hand and get some sense of closure before the funeral home came to take her body. Even though we knew her body was lifeless and empty and she was in Heaven, it still helped being able to kiss her cheek and say goodbye.

We had decided a long time before she passed on that there wouldn’t be a viewing for Grandma, so the funeral service was on the Saturday morning following the Wednesday that she died. Fewer people attended her funeral than attended Grandpa’s as the service was only a few days after her death. One thing that touched me was the fact that this guy I’d met (Aaron Michael Hoffman) came to the funeral with his grandparents. They didn’t know Grandma, but Aaron and I had met about a month prior to the funeral and were rapidly becoming close friends. He knew it would mean a lot to me if he came, and so – he did. If either of us had known where that day would lead us, I think we would have laughed hysterically. But our journey was only just beginning…

Come a month or so later, Aaron and I were quite the pair. Never “officially” going out until December, we were certainly a silly couple. Our relationship was founded on a bunch of ridiculous instant message and text message conversations. But one day, we both realized that being friends for the rest of our lives wasn’t what either of us desired. We both wanted something more – something deeper. And, my friend, we received it; all in due time, of course, but it came about nonetheless. It has been over a year, now, and Aaron and my relationship is still going strong. Even with hundreds of miles and over 12 hours separating us, we’re doing well. As the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

I do not know what exactly God’s plans hold for me, but I do know that His plans are perfect. My future rests in His hands just as everything else always has. Just as God’s always been there for me, so have my close friends (Bethany Joy Tanner, Katlyn Marie Doughty, Re[bek]ah Christine Doughty, and a few others) and my family. It’s been a bit of a rough journey, and my life has its rollercoaster moments, but… I honestly cannot wait to see what’s up ahead (“Just around the river bend!”). Life is like a… gosh – life is whatever you make it. Choose wisely and you’ll never regret a moment lived.